Starting To
by clarasoswald
Summary: Clara is tired of running, so invites the Doctor over for dinner. After omelettes and some snarky comments from Angie and Artie, they decide to eat together every Wednesday evening after their adventures. It brings them even closer together, but with two shy, secret-filled people, how long will it take before they admit that they have feelings for each other?
1. Starting

**This is my first fanfiction, so please take that into account. I was in love with Clara ever since the Asylum of the Daleks, and her chemistry with the Doctor is just completely adorable. Hope you enjoy this!**

Run, she thought. She couldn't do anything more than run. Run as fast as she could, get back to the TARDIS, and fly away from the danger perusing her. _Where the hell has the Doctor got to?_ There was no time to think. _Run_.  
Skidding to a halt in front of the police box, she pulled on the handles angrily, shaking the box and half-screaming for it to open. When it finally relented, she mumbled a quick 'thank you', fell through the doors and slammed them shut, sliding down the wall and gasping for breath.  
"Phew, that was close." A voice behind Clara made her jump out of her skin, flinching at the sound. When she looked over, she saw the Doctor leaning against the control panel, a smirk on his lips as he stared in amusement at her shock. "Nearly got killed. _Again_. Seems to happen every Wednesday with us, doesn't it?"  
Clara shook her head, standing up and brushing her dress down, adjusting her hair and rubbing a bit of dirt on her face, making it worse. "That was eventful," she laughed, ignoring the loud shouts and yells from around the TARDIS; the indigenous species didn't seem to like them very much.  
"Mmm, could say that. What now, Clara Oswald?" He skipped over to her with a wide grin on her face, completely oblivious to the fact that she was out of breath and a little bit bedraggled.  
After shaking her head a few times, Clara finally met his gaze and smirked. "Couldn't we just go home? I need a change of clothes, and Angie's been begging me to introduce you for _weeks_. You could stay for dinner or something." She bit her lip, wondering if she'd gone too far. Why would a time travelling mad-man want to stay over for tea, anyway?  
"That would be lovely, _Clara_." He put extra emphasis on her name, like he was trying to work out how to pronounce it properly. "You do have fish fingers, right? Haven't had 'em in years now…" he went quiet all of a sudden, and Clara shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other until he snapped back to attention with a flurry. "What time do you want to be back for?" A smile slipped onto Clara's lips when she saw him back in his zone, and she hurried up the steps, swinging on the bars.  
"I'd say… 6 o'clock? On Wednesday, obviously. Artie likes pizza on Wednesdays… you might have to make those fish fingers yourself, Doctor…"

Slipping out of the TARDIS doors with her hair still a slightly singed mess around her shoulders, Clara grabbed her keys from her pocket and let herself in, gesturing to the Doctor to keep his voice down. "They can't see us like this. What will they think we've been _doing_?" Tiptoeing up the stairs slowly, she pulled a face when she heard the loud creak of the stairs under her feet.  
"Clara? Is that you?" Angie's voice came through from the living room, and Clara spotted a half-amused, half-panicked look flash across the Doctor's face.  
"Uh… yeah, yeah it's me! I'm just going to get changed, we have… a visitor!" She yelled back, her hand rubbing at her temple. "Don't say anything stupid! Make a pot of tea or something, yeah?" Shooting an apologetic look at the man stood at the bottom of the stairs, she rushed into her room, groaning when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was sticking out at all angles, and her dress was dirty, and a bit ripped at the back. Why hadn't the Doctor mentioned that? Sighing, she rifled through her clothes until she found a suitable dress. It was silver and floaty, similar to the one she'd worn when she was supposedly going to 'Las Vegas', but a little lighter. It felt silky and soft as it stuck to her skin, and as she was sorting her hair out the best she could, she wondered what the Doctor would think of it. _Stop that_, she thought. No need to worry about other peoples' opinions, just like her Mum had always told her. Padding down the stairs as quickly as she could, she turned the corner into the living room and her eyes immediately found Angie's, who had a large smirk on her face.  
"You didn't tell us that you had a _gentleman_ visitor, Clara…" the twisted smile said it all, and before Clara could retaliate, Angie carried on. "He seems very nice, you know, if you get past the whole bow tie thing—"  
"Oi! Bow ties are cool, thank you very much, and that dress looks lovely on you, Clara, and Artie, you look rather dapper in those shoes. Now, who wants dinner?" The Doctor's entrances were always rather extravagant, Clara thought, but this one had to be the best. She couldn't help but smile, and it couldn't be wiped off her face, even by Angie's laughter.

"What did I miss, then?" Clara led the Doctor into the kitchen, making sure that the kids were out of sight. She really didn't need any more comments from Angie, or probing questions from Artie.  
"Oh, not much. Angie said something about you being over-protective, laughed at me a bit, asked me something about me seeing you which I couldn't quite grasp – she does talk fast, that girl… oh, and Artie was showing me his new shoes." He leant against the counter next to Clara, his arm brushing against hers ever so slightly. There was a short moment of silence, during which Clara realised that they were always touching in some way. It wasn't an attached kind of touching, or at least, she didn't _think_ that it was, but more of an 'I know you're there and appreciate that' kind of touching. That didn't stop the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, though. _Do the trick, Clara. Don't fall in love with him._  
"Right, well… I guess I should get cooking, then." She turned to the stove, grabbing a few things from the cupboards, then felt the Doctor reach out and take her hand. She looked at him inquisitively, and frowned in confusion. When she felt his fingers brush against her cheeks, she relaxed completely, her whole body sub-consciously arching towards him.  
"No, you won't. I'm making omelettes for everyone." He laughed and grabbed a pan, turning to her and 'giving her a face', telling her to go and entertain the kids. _Do the trick again, Clara_.

"So… do you like him?" Angie edged closer to her on the sofa, her eyebrows raised. Clara fidgeted, but tried not to make it obvious. "You dressed up for him and everything, _look at you_," Angie poked at the dress, making Clara's cheeks redden a little. "You do, you obviously do… tell me, then. Is he a good kisser?"  
That comment surprised Clara a little. Her lips felt hot all of a sudden, static and itchy, like there was a trace of something on them. She licked the feeling away and shook her head, laughing quietly. "No, Angie. Not going to happen."  
"But you'd be so _cute_. He's so tall and handsome, if you take away the bow tie and the weird flicky hair thing, and have you seen the way he looks at you? I haven't seen someone be like that around you since Rupert."  
"Who's Rupert?" Clara flinched and looked up to see the Doctor stood in the doorway, and confused, and slightly sombre look on his face. He seemed sad, but a soft kind of sad. The kind of sad that can't be seen unless you really know a person.  
"Oh, no one, just—" Clara was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious Angie.  
"Her ex. Kind of. He really fancied her, you see, but Clara kept turning him down, over and over again. Bit mean, really."  
"Well, she's a feisty one, isn't she? Firecracker." The Doctor chuckled to himself, his eyes flitting over Clara's burning cheeks for a few moments. "How did he look at her?" Clara's eyes met his in alarm, and she couldn't even deny it any more, a blush flooding her face and her eyes staring into his with a worried look.  
"Doesn't matter. Angie, do your homework or something. Doctor, you said you were making omelettes." Standing up, she twisted her dress nervously, shot the Doctor yet another worried smile, and then went to find Artie.

One hour and a few complaints later, they were all sat around the dinner table. "Where's Dad?" Asked Artie, who had his eyebrows knotted together in dismay.  
"He's working late tonight, remember? Just… eat up, Artie." Clara was ridiculously uncomfortable; that smile hadn't left Angie's face since she'd laid eyes on the Doctor and herself, and it was making her feel as though she was being watched. She'd never liked that feeling much.  
"Once we've finished, can I show your boyfriend my school project?" Artie was so obliviously sweet, that it took a moment for his words to sink in.  
"Oh, no, we're not— He isn't— She's just—" Clara and the Doctor stared at each other in alarm, and Angie's smirk grew wider.  
"_Angie!_ We're just friends, alright?" A deep sigh filled the room from more than one person, and a hesitant silence followed whilst everyone dug into their food.  
"But _seriously_, you do look like someone Clara would go for, Doctor. And Clara, why do you call him that? The Doctor? Is it some weird nickname that you gave him? I know that girls do that with boys they like. Snugglemuffins or… munchkin or something. The Doctor is kind of weird, but it's cute." Words were tumbling from Artie's mouth and Clara was almost at a breaking point. It was only the Doctor's hand on her arm that stopped her from standing up and yelling at them both.  
"You want to know something about me, Artie? I'm an alien. I have two hearts and…" he paused to look over at Clara fondly, "and twenty-seven brains."  
"No you _don't_. If you were an alien, you would have big eyes, or a bumpy face or… something. You wouldn't have a big chin and weird hair. That's too boring."  
"Excuse me! The chin shall not be mentioned, and as for the hair," he flicked it to the side dramatically, "I think it makes me look rather lovely, don't you?" It was only after a few moments that Clara realised he'd directed the question at her. She nodded quickly, and then started stacking the plates, escaping to the kitchen whilst the Doctor continued to amuse Artie, and Angie sulked on her phone.

"That was… interesting." Clara stood in the doorway with the Doctor, her arms folded. The rest of the evening was Angie-less – she had escaped to her room to be a teenager – and Artie and the Doctor argued for a while before Clara sent the kids to bed. They were probably still up, though. She didn't care.  
"Mmm, quite the handful." He was stood painfully close to her, his hands resting on her shoulders cautiously, like he was scared to break her.  
"Thanks for coming…" _Don't fall in love, don't fall in love_.  
"You're welcome, _Clara_." There, he did it again. The way he said her name. She searched his eyes for something, but she wasn't sure what she was looking for until she noticed how warmly he was smiling, how nervous he seemed. He wasn't anything like Rupert. Rupert had tried to shape her into something she didn't want to be. But Rupert didn't matter. The Doctor did.  
"Where are we off to next Wednesday, then?" She whispered, a smile creeping onto her lips. _Don't fall in love, Clara Oswald. Don't do it._  
"I don't know. You ever been to Barcelona? And I mean the planet, not the Spanish place. Lovely place, Barcelona. You'd love it. Nice people." He was rambling, and there were a few flashes of something in his face, remorse, maybe.  
"As long as it's awesome."  
"It's definitely awesome."  
"Good." There weren't any words coming after that. She didn't know what to say to him. There was a lot that she really wanted to say, but she didn't know how to word it. How much he amazed him. How his chin didn't look so bad in the light. How she had to force herself not to fall in love with him _every single day_.  
"Clara…" he seemed on edge as well, like he wanted to say something, do something. There was a weird stirring in the bottom of her gut when she felt his hands dance from her shoulders and onto her cheeks, and as he edged closer, she could feel the double-time of his hearts beating faster and faster.  
"Clara?" They jumped apart when they heard someone walking up to them, and when Clara glanced over at the Doctor, she could see the redness in his cheeks, even in the dark. "Clara, what's happening? Who is this?" Angie and Artie's Dad stood before them, and she could see his eyes analysing the Doctor.  
"Oh, hello! I'm your gover—nanny's gentlemen friend, and we've just been upstairs…" he looked over at Clara in a weird way, like he had never seen her in his life, then said something that she really didn't expect to hear: "kissing!"  
"Uh, we'll talk about this later. I trust that the kids are in bed?" He couldn't take his eyes from the Doctor, and he seemed almost aggravated.  
"Yeah, they're in bed. Doesn't mean that they're asleep, though…" She felt herself swaying again, something she always did when she was anxious. Moving out of the way to let him through, she immediately turned around to glare at the Doctor, who looked like a naughty school boy, been found sneaking something into the teacher's desk. She grabbed him by the arm, pushing him backwards until they got to the TARDIS. Shoving him against the time machine, she stood on her tiptoes to seem a little more intimidating. "Why the _hell_ did you say that?" She wanted to shout at him, to get angry, but she couldn't. She could never do that.  
"Spur of the moment, y'know? Don't get mad at me, Clara. Better me say that we were kissing than… other things." He was genuinely scared of her, and she could tell. It made her feel a little less weak, finally.  
"Mmm, but don't you think it would be better if you'd said that we were kissing in your snog box than upstairs? Upstairs sounds suggestive, snog box sounds… classier."  
"Classier…? And _it's not a snog box_, how many times do I have to tell you that!" He was trying to be angry, but his eyes were smiling, and it almost seemed as though… no, he couldn't _like_ the idea, could he?"  
She ignored the second question, a laugh escaping her lips. "Yes, classier. I still need to judge that, you know. How much of a snog box it really is." With a smirk and a wink, she skipped up to the door, leaving the Doctor in a flabbergasted mess. _That's more like it_, she thought, thankful that the kids weren't there to swap the roles. "I need to go and clear things up, thanks to you." Before she stepped inside, though, she heard him calling out to her.  
"Clara… who was Rupert?" He seemed genuinely interested, and that made her worry. She pushed the worry away, though, turning around confidently, trying to seem more… Clara.  
She saw his face in the light, and his dark, harrowing eyes staring at her, and she felt that stirring again. _Don't fall in love, Clara Oswald. Don't you dare. Don't do that to yourself._ "He was someone who didn't care about me. That's who he was. He was manipulative, harsh, and cruel... and he tried to change me."  
"Oh, I shouldn't have… mentioned that, then." Clara shrugged and took one step into the house when she heard her name again. "Clara? I care about you."  
"I know." _Don't do it. Don't, don't, don't._  
_Oh my stars, I'm in love with him, aren't I?_


	2. Dating

**This chapter is inspired by these lyrics: **_**I will look out into the starred sky.**__**  
**__**With your help now, I will be all right**__**. **__**Oh, my future, I can't believe it's time**__**. **__**No, my lover, I'll never leave you behind.**_

**Thank you all for your responses for the first chapter! I've had so many ideas over the past few days, so I think that this will be spread out quite a lot! Plus, it gives you more time to learn about the characters that were minor in the episodes. This chapter's from the Doctor's point of view, and I think I'm going to alternate between the two. Thanks again, and enjoy!**

_She's late_, he thought, pacing up and down in front of the main console, his hands knotted behind his back, rubbing together nervously. _She's never late_. Checking the time on the screen, he told himself that he was worrying too much. She was only a minute late, after all. _What if something's happened to her?_ The Doctor had been flustered and worried about her before, but not this worried. He didn't really understand why he was freaking out so much, actually. There was no need. She had probably just been caught up in a conversation, or maybe the phone had started ringing, or the children were messing about. He smiled fondly when he remembered Artie, but that smile turned to an embarrassed grimace when he thought of everything Angie had been saying.  
Then his mind flitted back to Rupert, the man that kept being mentioned. Clara clearly didn't like him, but Angie had thought that she had. It aggravated him, and as curious as he was, he didn't want to be too nosy. He knew that girls didn't like that. Not that he was trying to get her to like her, of course not.  
Checking the time again, he straightened his bow tie, put on a face of determination, and strolled out of the TARDIS doors, up to the Maitland's front door. Ringing on the bell several times, he heard someone yelling from inside, and grinned. Someone was home.  
"What do you—oh, hello, Doctor!" Angie's face flashed from irritated to amused in only a few moments, and she opened the door a little more to let him in.  
"Uh, hello…" he smiled at her slightly, looking down the hall to try and get a glimpse of the girl he was supposed to be flying around the Universe with.  
"If you're looking for Clara, which you obviously are, she's sick."  
"What?" His eyes met hers in alarm.  
"You heard me. Your precious little Clara is _ill_. Y'know, lying in bed with a temperature and all that. She won't be able to go out with you today, sorry." Angie looked oddly content by her statement, and the Doctor rolled his eyes at her.  
"I was worried, she didn't show up for…" his eyes widened when Angie started giggling. "What?"  
"You were worried about her, that's what. And what was she showing up for?"  
"Uh… we were just… I was going to take her sight-seeing, actually."  
"How romantic. Come on, smitten kitten, I'll take you to your Juliet." Although the Doctor didn't know much of English literature, he didn't know of Romeo and Juliet, and was angered by the reference. He wanted to say some witty comment in return, but nothing came to mind, and he knew that Angie had won. This time.

As soon as he walked into Clara's room, his head filled with doubt. Should he really be there? In her room? He immediately walked up to her, smiling a little when he saw her beaming face. Her eyes lit up as he drew closer, and her fingers reached out to naturally cling to his, her eyes scrunched up as her mouth stretched into an even larger smile. She was so perfect, even then.  
"Hello, Clara…" he brushed the hair away from her face carefully, flinching slightly at how hot her head was. She really _was_ ill.  
"Hi…" she croaked, her breathing shallow and soft, like she was trying to stay awake.  
"You didn't show up… I thought something happened to you, I just—" his sentence sputtered out when he saw her shaking her head in exasperation, and he chuckled gently.  
"You can come back next Wednesday, Doctor. I'll be fine by then." Clara's smile and the knowing glint in her eyes made him question himself. He couldn't just leave her there, could he?  
"I'm not going anywhere, Miss Oswald."

After about half an hour next to her, talking, the Doctor decided to leave her to rest. He left quietly when she turned over tiredly, and hurried down the stairs, having to grab onto the banisters for balance.  
"Mind if I use your kitchen, Maitlands?" He swung around the corner and into the living room, where Angie was eating her breakfast in front of the television, getting ready for school. She looked up at him and shrugged, changing the channel with her elbow.  
"Sure, whatever." She seemed incredibly unenthusiastic, and the Doctor suddenly came to the realisation that he was going to have to act stand-in nanny for a bit.  
"Where's Artie?" He asked, stumbling forwards and leaning in the doorframe.  
"How should I know? Probably talking to his idiot mates or something. Nerds." In all of his days, the Doctor had never met such an insolent child, but wasn't going to make any comments on it. He knew that somehow, Angie was a nice person, but was covering it up. She was hiding something, it seemed.  
"Right, well… you two get to school, you only have ten minutes now…" he looked at the clock above the fireplace and hoped that he had got the timing right. Rushing into the kitchen, he took a packet of Jammy Dodgers from the cupboard and put them on a plate, stuffing a couple in his mouth as he did so. It reminded him of when he'd first met Clara… or third met Clara. Same difference, right? Shaking his head in confusion, he poured a cup of juice and put the whole lot on a tray, wandering back into the living room with it.  
"Is that for Clara?" Angie raised an eyebrow, throwing a few bits and pieces in her bag and straightening her skirt out. The Doctor nodded, a slight smile on his face, almost as though he was proud. "You are _so_ oblivious." Before he could question her, Angie had slumped out of the house, giggling to herself.

When the Doctor reached Clara's door again, he knocked quietly, and heard a mumbled 'come in' from inside, and pushed at the door, wincing as it creaked a little.  
"Hello, Sweetie." Clara smirked and rolled over, and the Doctor stepped back, shell-shocked.  
"What did you just call me?" He stared into her eyes for a moment and saw River in front of him, feeling a stab at his heart, but then snapped back to reality. This was Clara. _His_ Clara. Not River. Not anymore.  
"What?" She frowned, like she was trying to remember something, but then shrugged, pulling the blankets up around her a little more.  
"You just… never mind." He shook his head and put the tray on her bedside table, sitting cross-legged on the floor like a little boy.  
"Why did you stay?" She murmured, her eyes opening and closing slowly, like she was struggling to blink. "Why didn't you fly off to see the Universe or something? You don't need me to do that."  
"Yes, I do." He smiled sadly, rubbing his thumb against her cheek tenderly. "I shouldn't be alone. And I couldn't do half of the stuff I do without you, could I?"  
Clara's smile became a little happier, but it stopped short when she coughed loudly, the whole movement wracking her body, making her shake beneath his touch.  
"Shh, shhhh…" He did his best to calm her down, but he'd never been good with dealing with ill people. Unless he counted that time in New Earth where he'd cured a tonne of _really ill_ people, but he didn't want to. It reminded him of people who he shouldn't be reminded of.  
"You're sad…" Clara whispered, her eyes staring into his like she was scared of him. "Don't be sad. You shouldn't be sad."  
"Mmm, and the only way I can't be sad is if I'm with you." He tried to smile, but he'd reminded himself of something that made his chest feeling like someone was thrusting his hand into it and squeezing a little too tight.  
"You don't really mean that, do you?" Her eyelids were fluttering shut, her breathing becoming a little more spaced. He knew that she was going to fall asleep, but a part of him wanted her to stay there next to him and talk for hours. He hadn't felt that way in years, and didn't quite recognise what was happening. Why did it matter, anyway?

A door opened somewhere in the distance, and the Doctor blinked several times before realising that he had fallen asleep on the floor next to Clara's bed. Jumping up onto his feet in shock, he padded out of the room, stopping at the top of the stairs when he saw who was at the bottom.  
"Mr Maitland… uh, hello?" His smile wavered and then fell into a sort of slightly off-centre frown when the man before him showed signs of anger.  
"Been upstairs kissing Clara again then, Mr…?"  
The Doctor shook his head several times, hopping down the stairs to greet him. "No, no, of course not, she's ill you see, very sick, I was only making sure that she was okay because I asked her to come away with me for the day, but then Angie said something about kittens and I went upstairs, and she was all poorly! I made sure that the children got to school, though. And I'm the Doctor."  
"Doctor who?" He pulled a face of distaste, and pushed past him to get into the kitchen.  
"Does it matter? I could be Doctor What, actually. Or Doctor When. That would be fun. But no, I'm just the Doctor. Not Doctor Who. Don't be silly." He smiled broadly and sat on the sofa, crossing his legs and staring at his shoes. "Oh, these aren't the best of shoes, don't you think? I need to get some like Artie's. He was showing me them yesterday. Very lovely shoes, those."  
"Clara's dating you?" Mr Maitland looked slightly befuddled as he watched the Doctor try and sit properly in the seat he was in.  
"Oh, we're…" all of a sudden, he didn't have any words, but someone else did.  
"Yeah, she is." Clara stood in the doorframe, her blanket around her shoulders, her hair piled on top of her head and her eyes dark and sleepy. The Doctor's lips twisted into a small smile straight away, but he frowned when he heard what she said. She looked like a deer in the headlights when she looked at him with those wide, doe-like eyes, trying to get him to play along.  
"Yes, we're… dating." He hated that word. He hated it so much. It didn't sound right in his mouth, because she was so much more than that to him. She wasn't someone he labelled; she was someone he cared for. In his mind, there was a difference.  
"How long has this been going on for, then?" Mr Maitland pursed his lips, directing the question at Clara, who tried to walk into the room to sit down, but tripped over her own feet. Before he knew what he was doing, the Doctor was stood up, leaning over to catch her. Her eyes met his in surprise for a few moments and he held her a little bit closer to him, wanting to make sure that she was alright.  
"Thanks," she muttered, her cheeks tinted pink. He smiled at her, then stood there for a good few seconds not knowing what to do, staring into her eyes curiously.  
Someone coughed loudly, and Clara released herself from the Doctor's grasp, straightening herself out and fiddling with her hair like she often did when she was unhappy with a situation. "I'm guessing you two are happy together, then?"  
Clara nodded hurriedly, and sat down on the sofa, cocking her head to the side, inviting the Doctor to sit beside her. As soon as he was there, she leant over and whispered, "thanks for staying. Again. You need to stop doing that."  
The Doctor sighed and stood up, heading for the door. "I'll be back next Thursday, alright Clara?"  
"Sure thing, Sweetie." Clara grinned and rested her head back on the seat. The Doctor stared at her for a few moments, shook his head and headed outside. He was imagining things again.

"So…" The Doctor poked his head around the corner of the TARDIS console when he heard a voice coming from the door. It was Clara, good as new. "You're my boyfriend now, huh?"  
"No, I'm not! That was just a cover up! That wasn't—I didn't even—Oh _shut up_!" He glared at her, his fingers darting around and pressing random buttons.  
"Well, I still need to test out this snog box, and since it's kind of mandatory now, I guess I could just…" she was suddenly in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and smirking like there was no tomorrow.  
"No! No, no, no! We just—shut up! No!" He grabbed her fingers and pushed her away from him gently, frowning and walking away from her. She was being way too similar to Clara. Clara Oswin Oswald, not _his_ Clara. Mind you, Clara Oswin Oswald was his Clara, too. _Too many Claras_...  
"We're going to have to live up to our reputation when we're not in the snog box, you know."  
"She isn't a snog box!"  
"_She_? Oh, so you're one of those guys who are in love with their cars or something? What are you going to do now, start _talking_ to it?" Clara folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "To me, the TARDIS gets us from A to B, and I have no emotional attachment to it. It's a freaking time machine, not a lover or something." The TARDIS started making loud, angry noises and spun them off course, throwing Clara against the bar.  
"Clara, you might want to find something to hold on to!" He screamed at her, grabbing onto a rail himself.  
"What did you do?"  
"It's not what I did; it's what you did! You made her angry! Apologise!"  
"Apologise? I am not talking to you _damn spaceship_!"  
"Apologise!"  
"No!"  
"Do it!"  
"Fine, fine! _I'm sorry!_" The TARDIS balanced itself out again, making a weird purring noise of happiness. "What just happened?"  
"You made her angry; she went mad, you said sorry. Done."  
"You're ridiculous."  
"No, you are."  
"You're a mad man with a snogging booth and a bow tie, Doctor!"  
"Exactly. We're in a time machine. One that can take you to places where dogs don't have noses, and humans can't even breathe in the air. _You're_ the ridiculous one." The Doctor pulled a face and then threw his arm around her shoulder.  
"This is ridiculous." She mumbled, the smile on her face brighter than ever. _Oh, I know. This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. I'm ridiculous. Because I'm feeling things that I haven't felt in a _long _time, and it's ridiculous._


End file.
